


Holding Tight and Letting Go

by Entwife_Incognito



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Romance, Smut, smutty smut smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 17:51:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8170540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entwife_Incognito/pseuds/Entwife_Incognito
Summary: A racy interlude to chase away that Saint Teresa image. Not at all subtle! Okay. Probably just pure porn. AU where Red John is already dead. Disclaimer: I do not own anything about The Mentalist.Originally posted at FFnet May 20, 2013 and updated here, edited heavily for readability.





	

Teresa's Lisbon's dreams were hot! Sexy dreams would have woken her with their buzz, and made her turn to the man sleeping beside her to make them real. She was overheated, sweaty hot. Suddenly, waking became survival. Struggling and drenched in perspiration, she was unable to move but unsure why. The restriction brought her to near panic until she awoke enough to realize what held her.

It was Patrick Jane, whimpering in his sleep, squeezing her so close and tight that it was hard to breathe. His arms completely encircled her chest and shoulders while the rest of his body spooned against her backside, undulating not in sexual excitement, but in an impossible attempt to get even closer. His legs lapped over hers, hooking them, with his heels dug painfully into her shins. Patrick's face was buried in her hair, damp and sticky from the jungle breath huffing down her neck. The sounds from his throat spoke of hurt and loss, of refusal to relinquish what someone was attempting to take from him.

Teresa whispered low at first, not wanting to startle him. "Patrick." His desperate hold on her tightened until she squeaked in mild pain. "Sweetheart. Wake up. You're dreaming. I'm right here. I'm not going away."

Patrick stilled in his sleep, as if listening to something far away, but did not release her or wake.

She managed to slide her top leg from the grip of his heel and roll her lower body a little forward, welcoming the cooling space between them. She reached behind her hips, hoping to push against a hip bone and pry herself loose. But all she managed were fingers that found his sleepy goods as slick with sweat as she, wondering why he wasn't uncomfortable enough to wake up, too. Gently, almost imperceptibly Teresa brushed her fingertips over him. She cooed his name. Surely this would be a soothing way to wake up after a bad dream. Nothing stirred. Really out this time; he always responded to that! Grunting, she managed to push her hand a little lower, and tickled the most sensitive places, using a finger to bounce the sleepy head of his penis.

Patrick huffed slightly in his sleep and pushed his hips forward a little. Encouraged, Teresa continued to touch and tease, brush and squeeze as she felt him lengthen and thicken quickly. Backing her hips into him, she brushed against his new erection, guiding it along the crease of her bottom.

Patrick moaned and started to regain consciousness. The blood filling his male parts was pleasurable and demanding. Why was he so hot and sweaty? Why was Teresa practically pasted to him? As he woke, he realized he held her in a death grip in his sleep again.

"Oh. Oh! Teresa I'm sorry. I did it again." Easing his grip, he kissed below her ear and scooted a few inches away, brushing his hand apologetically along her arm, trying to soothe her.

"It's okay. I know why it is you hold me so tight, Patrick." Backing her hips against him again, she continued petting him with her bottom. The harder he got, the better he felt . . . especially that plump head . . . 

He sighed. Teresa did know, steamed like a lobster almost every night. By almost losing her, he'd almost lost everything that mattered in the final confrontation with Red John. But that was over now. The evil freak was dead and could no longer threaten anyone. Patrick cursed that the man was still haunting his dreams and disturbing the woman he had begun sharing a life with.

Just now, however, he wasn't dreaming. This was flesh and blood Teresa Lisbon, erotically inventive in getting him to wake up and release his hold, stroking him with the fleshy crease of her ass! She did it again, catching the head, pressing it against her lower lips so that he could feel her heat. In a surge of desire, Patrick wanted to flip her, pin her to the bed and make her moan helplessly under him.

But the way she swept her ass against his stiffening and swelling male anatomy! More of that. He had enough length now that the plump head would catch in the cleft that shaped the heart of her fanny and then bounce loose as she continued to travel against him. She arched her back and held still, an invitation to penetrate her when he was ready. Patrick pushed against her shoulders and Teresa leaned further forward, improving their position even more. Then she lifted her leg and bent her knee, placing a foot just so on the bed. It was more beautiful than ballet to Patrick.

The sight of this beautiful woman, bonded in all important ways to him, positioning herself to give him sexual access set his male blood at a boil. Lowering his own hips, he lodged himself in her sweet nether lips and slithered in the gathering juices there. With a cry born of intense pleasure, Patrick plunged into her, sliding easily through her silken interior grip.

How many times had they done this now? It was still new, but not past the point of knowing, if he wanted to take the time to count. Which he didn't. Maybe they hadn't done it quite this way. But every time he entered Teresa, it felt like a new experience. The shock of her warmth, the waves of soft muscle that closed around him hungrily, the angle, the breathtaking slide tripped something inside his heart that made him love her and want her as if for the first time.

She arched her back even more, pushing her hips almost flat against him, encouraging him deeper. Every thrust was a caress, a deep probe like satisfying kisses inside. Her breathed relief was an almost musical, "Ah!" at the bottom of each thrust. Patrick loved to make her call out in pleasure. At insane levels of arousal, she would talk so dirty to him. That was the best. Dirty love talk from Teresa Lisbon. Calls from the wild feminine beast inside her, just for his ears!

Patrick reached around to fondle her breasts, lightly rolling and pinching her nipples. She gave a little yelp and buried her hips against him, twisting them but holding him deep inside her. It made Patrick almost light-headed with desire. But she seemed to be in a hurry this morning, whining and gasping fretfully as she moved, not quite begging for a quick release. He wanted to make her desperate, set her on fire! More encouragement. Less cooperation. Make her frustration sweet, strong enough to say exactly what she wanted. He loved it when she would completely let go of anything Saint Teresa and demand her satisfaction from him in words ripe with lust. He slowed and began kissing her neck and shoulders.

A clamorous and exacting lust was building in Teresa just as Patrick stopped moving in her and dallied at her neck. Frustration and desire built together. Her neck? Really? Now? His teasing maddened her and she moved her hips, swirling along his rigid length and bumping him hard. It was an argument, a luscious tangle of passionate will with the same thrilling and erotic goal. Patrick's hands and lips were everywhere, driving her and then coasting, only to start again. Her body craved all the new chances, panting in the pauses and improvising ways to draw his delicious suffering to the edge, too. A raw voice sounded in her head, soon would be in her throat, hollering filthy directions that made her want to hide later.

Teresa groaned in temper. She wanted to come! She whined, hoping he would show mercy, let her win, 'Fuck me right!' She would scream it in a moment. Patrick was driving her to it, loved to hear it. Already, her mind was unguarded and tumbled, insistent and base. Patrick showed no sign of reading her mind or understanding the language of whine.

"What is it, what do you want, Teresa?" His low purr vibrated against her ear, Patrick was determined to make her start talking.

"I want to come," she whispered, moving her hips.

His hand was soft, but it wrapped her hip and restrained her. "Stop moving. I'm just as close as you are."

Breath suspended, he backed out just a little and slid his hand to the fleshy vee above her ass cheeks. Massaging with his fingers. It was a place that could drive her mad.

The nerves in her pelvis sparked in chaos, writhing fire inside. "Oh, Jesus . . ." Her clit reached for every spark. "I want to fuck you." But then his fingers would stop doing . . . that. "Patrick!" It sounded loud in her mind, but emerged breathless and begging.

Smiling, his own excitement now off the scale in anticipation, Patrick scratched lightly with his nails until her breath sobbed.

"Rub my clit! Oh, god, now!"

Breath like a steaming train, Patrick slipped his arm around to find the engorged bud, slippery with her moisture, and began to massage it with his fingertips.

Teresa made a sound like she was falling off a cliff, and then called out sharply, "Little dick!" Her voice caught and she moaned, "Little dick!"

Patrick grinned. The edge in her voice said she was not begging but directing. Overheated with lust and pleasure, he gave her neck a very wet kiss, knowing just what she meant. It was her dirty little way of demanding that he take her clit between his thumb and finger and stroke it like a tiny penis. It was delicate work, but he could feel the organ lengthen slightly and gain the definition needed for him to do just as she asked.

"Oh god, yes, just like that! Teresa alternated between mewling and an enticing low growl. Patrick pressed his mouth beside Teresa's ear again and nipped her jaw. "What do you want, Teresa? Tell me."

His lips felt swollen and soft, vibrating with the labored breathing from his chest. "Suck me . . . suck on me . . . I want to come, Patrick. Make me come," she moaned.

"Where do you want me to suck you?"

"You know!" He needed to stop playing! "My clit! My pussy! Now, Patrick! Please!"

Patrick was as breathless as the woman in his arms. He pulled out of Teresa and flipped her towards him onto her back. "Spread you legs wide for me, Teresa, wider. Show me your pussy."

Teresa obeyed. She was so limber from her own heat and activity that her open legs lay nearly flat against the bed, her knees slightly crooked.

"That's it. So pretty, so slick." Her soft, swollen core looked like strawberry gelato, melting, needing to be licked and consumed! All modesty gone, Teresa was completely open, frisking her fluff of pubic hair and groaning impatiently as Patrick quickly inverted his position to take her into his mouth and work her lovingly, bringing her to the edge and then easing her back, only to drive her further the next time. He kept her just shy of orgasm, while Teresa tried to steal it, pressing and sliding against his mouth and tongue, groaning and begging loudly. She felt too tired . . . why wouldn't he finish her?

Patrick had taken the teasing too far. She was becoming frustrated, overwhelmed sexually. He knew this because Teresa was starting to cry, short angry squalls that hinted at giving up and pulling away from him. It triggered such tenderness in Patrick that all he wanted to do was scoop her into his arms, but she deserved better. She was probably almost numb right now. He needed to distract her and let her rebuild in a minute. If he could keep her from giving up, he could help her catch that next powerful wave.

"Hold on, sweetheart. I won't tease you anymore." Painfully hard, Patrick started rubbing himself against her shoulder and arm.

She turned to him and grasped his shaft. "Ohhhhh . . . you're so hard . . . and hot!" She pulled him to her mouth and licked with her overheated tongue.

"Oh god, Teresa. That feels so good. Lick me all over. Please!"

Teresa wrapped him with both hands, licking him up and down, laving even his balls. Then she took him into her soft mouth and started sucking, working her hands in tandem. Patrick pulled her hips to his face and began to lick and suck on her again, paying particular attention to the tender, swollen nub at the apex of her legs, marveling as the tiny organ stiffened inside its hood and lengthened slightly as if to give him better purchase on her.

With a harsh call, Teresa surged into her climax, "Oh sh--! So good . . . so good . . ."

"Yeah . . . that's it . . . so nice . . ." Patrick lightly rubbed her belly and hips, relishing the remains of her release.

With a long, happy sigh, Teresa turned to finish him, sucking and mouthing his engorged, nearly purple flesh. She took him slow and deep, her hands drawing on him with long, pressured strokes, humming on his cock as if she was eating something . . . so tasty.

"Teresa!" His release was strong and almost brought him to tears. Overwhelming emotion . . . he thought of Teresa. She knew this feeling. It's why she would cry after orgasm sometimes.

Her beautiful face appeared, framed in those wild dark waves, smiling into his moist eyes. Her lips were wet with him, pearly liquid on her neck and chest. She kissed him, plunging her tongue into his mouth, tangled his in a sensuous dance. She wanted more! Barely deflated, he could feel himself surge to life in her eagerness for him. She pushed him to his back and climbed atop, mounting him swiftly but then holding a moment to be sure he wanted this round.

"Fuck me, Teresa. Fuck me hard!" Patrick could be driven to dirty talk, too.

She didn't need further encouragement, riding him at an angle only possible with her on top. Her shoulders were fairly still and he put his hands there to press her into place, but her hips snaked him up and down, responding to some feral call. The sensation was drawing Patrick into her pending storm. She grasped his forearms for even more leverage as she arched and threw her head back, her tight, reddened nipples bouncing on plump flushed breasts. Teresa looked primeval and utterly beautiful, setting loose the wild feminine that was her core. Patrick felt mindless in the sensation she was creating, losing his body boundaries and melting into hers. When her core began to pulse around him, it quickly transferred to his entire body -- no . . . everything he was -- and dragged him into something . . . transcendent . . . as he emptied himself into her.

"I love you. I love you. I love you." The words seemed to flow from Teresa with her breath.

Patrick wrapped his arms around her and answered, "Beautiful, beautiful woman . . . my . . . I love you."

A few minutes later, both totally spent, they lay cooling in delicious recovery. Patrick spoke in wonder, "What WAS that? Did you feel that?"

Teresa ran her hand through her hair, shaking her head a little, then turned and kissed the side of his face. "I felt it. I think it was just sex . . . its power. It was us, Patrick, you and me together like one energy, sort of. Yes, I felt it. I've never felt that with anyone before."

Patrick looked into her eyes. "I've never felt it either."

They lay in peace with each other, love feeding them both. They were a mess in the wake of that love, sticky, sweaty, pungent and totally wrecked. But at a level of happiness that neither had ever expected to find.


End file.
